


postmarked

by corvidbones



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, POV First Person, Poetry, end of series speculation, jon's fate is vague and up to interpretation, love and mourning, told from martin's perspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22296304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corvidbones/pseuds/corvidbones
Summary: Past the end of everything, Martin still writes.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Kudos: 21





	postmarked

I hope you know

in the end, nebulous and distant

a paper thin curtain, a scab peeling off skin

that has paled behind the rough, blood-grown edges

I'd search for you, hopelessly

some faraway thing

that could hardly recall my name

among the millions, the outnumbering

all gripped and weary of a twisting sky

a tsunami, a landslide

a bridge splitting the center

it exists, ever present, concurrent

spoken of from a long chasm off,

or into the biting wind that shakes your teeth

not yours, not yours, not yours—

but they are, aren't they?

hard to remember, sometimes

certain names among others, clearer

is mine there?

can you still hear me?

there's no novelty left, the strange grown around and over

a beaten down, scratched up feeling

to sit so still in the shade and know what lives there

a fox in the bracken, a dove in the evergreen

thin cobweb caught on fabric

a battered old coat, clinging to its stitches

if I wanted, could I take my hands and tear into its fray?

turn it inside out, part the seams,

thread the darkest night skies all through

and pull the lights down with it

scraped together, a little new,

it's just a thrifted coat

and yet you made it into something else

the second it rested over the bones of your body

those long, starving days in the after

so tell me, then,

do you sorrow over all my searching?

I can't know by the pass of my thumb over photograph

and I've been looking for so long, now

empty calls in the twist of a cavern I cannot hope to see

are you content there, darling?

dimmed, the barest hint of awake

do you hear when I sing to you?

it could always be drowned within the waves,

a lulling and endless purr

I suppose I can only hope to think

that you haven't heard me grieving

or the worst of it, at least

it hurts to have your voice, sometimes,

though I think I'd die without it

(forgive me for being so blunt)

I won't stop looking

and I don't worry, anymore,

if it's for better or worse

there was rain yesterday morning

nothing more severe than a gray sky,

and drifting afternoon fog

but somewhere else there is a bridge breaking

and ivy curling through the rust of machinery

there is a cat who treats our kitchen like a kingdom

and she sleeps on that heathered sweater of yours

that was once abandoned to the closet floor

I'm alright, I swear to it

not everything is

but in some form you know that, I'm sure

and though it's selfish of me to even say,

above all else I hope you don't cry

and I hope you can feel it

when the cat burrows into your clothes

as though it's the safest place on earth

(I think it might be, actually)

the sky here is supposed to clear tonight,

a few stars breaking through the smog

and I'll keep looking for you

the warmth of twin cups on the coffee table,

mint and lemon balm for the cat to turn her nose at

a steady, electric hum beside my knee

and the ink on my palms upturned

in a ritual of my own intent

are you listening, beyond everything?

can you tell me what you see?

**Author's Note:**

> I suppose this is what happens when it's 1:30 in the morning and your emotions start running wild.  
> Comments and kudos are much loved, as always.
> 
> You can find me on tumblr @corvidbones.


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